


Prompt #13: Alisbeth's Body Image

by Shaymed



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: I posted prompts and let fans choose a number and a character and I would write a short story based on their choice!Here is story number one.Becca requested:Character: AlisbethPrompt #13: Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with it.





	Prompt #13: Alisbeth's Body Image

 

Glass shatters, exploding outward and reflecting in sparks and flashes as it falls to the floor. Alisbeth glares at the one eye visible in the sliver of mirror still clinging to the backing. The door to her room opens abruptly, causing the candles to flutter in panic. 

Thassarian sighs at the scattered glass. “That’s three.”

Alisbeth frowns at the shards around her bare feet. “It’s—it’s like I’m me, Thass. I know I’m me, but someone else is in the mirror.”

He eyes her carefully, studying her frantic face and the way she pulls at her hair to force it out of her face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine! Just fine. Why?” She walks across the glass, leaving a trail of blood on the shards. “Do I get to come out now?”

He cringes at her feet and sets his hands on her shoulders. “You were murdering forsaken and hoarding their heads, what do you think?”

“It was just a couple, Thass. _Just a couple!_ ” she shouts out to Mograine. 

His glower deepens and he looks away from her. 

“Watch yourself, Alisbeth,” Thassarian warns quietly.

“What? Why? Can I feed apples to Bloodmist? How is she?”

“She’s being taken care of.”

“By Koltira? Did you get him back? I need to see him!” She charges toward him to run out of the room, but Thassarian grabs her around the waist and sits her in her green leather wingback chair. 

“He’s still in Undercity.”

Alisbeth’s face crumples. “It’s been _months_ , Thass. Why aren’t you doing anything? You’re his best friend.”

“It’s complicated.”

She wipes her eyes and glares at him. “No, it’s not. Let me out and _I’ll_ get him.”

“And if you encounter the forsaken of Undercity?”

She stands and scoffs, turning her back to him as she reaches beneath her shirt to trace her finger along the rough line through her skin, following the jagged edges and uneven path. She closes her eyes and sneers. 

“Then they die. They will all die. I will make them pay!” she shouts. 

Thassarian slams the door on her as she charges him. She bounces from the cold steel and falls to the floor. Her upper lip curls and she jumps to her feet once more to throw herself at the door again and again as she screams.

“I will line the perimeter of Lordaeron with their heads! I will rid this world of every last one of those filthy creatures. _Do you hear me?_ ” 

The slit at eye level slides open and Mograine glares in at her. “Enjoy the light while you can. Those are your last candles.” A broom slides through the food slot at the bottom of the door. “Clean up your mess and sweep it out the slot while you still have light.”

Alisbeth’s face shifts to misery as she approaches the door, her hands up in pleading. “No, please. Please don’t leave me in the dark. Don’t leave me in here, Mograine, please.” She sobs, tears falling from her face to wet her cheeks completely. 

“You did this to yourself.”

“No. _No!_ Please! Just help me, please. I just need Koltira.” She slides her fingers through the slot and grips the door as she rocks side to side, weeping. 

“What you _need_ is to be punished the same way you were ‘punishing’ innocent forsaken. One day I’ll have your head, Redblade.”He slides the slit closed, smashing and pinching her fingers. 

She rips her hands from the opening and collapses to the floor. 

“I wish you would just kill this abomination of a body…” she whispers to the stones. “I am Alisbeth Redblade. Daughter of Malath Redblade and Diori Nightheart. I am Alisbeth Redblade. Wife of Koltira Deathweaver. I am Alisbeth Redblade. Student of Uther and Tirion and no one.” She goes silent, listening to the sound of ambience as noises echo in the stone floor. “I forgot to write to them. Taveth probably thinks I’m dead.” She laughs out loud, covering her stomach with a hand and waving the other hand in the air. When her laughing dies down, she notices the dimming of the light. She turns on her side and stares at the candle flames as the wax creeps lower toward the holder. “Don’t forget, you’re Alisbeth Redblade. Right?” 

_Of course you are._

“I am. Alisbeth. Redblade.”

The light flickers out and once the wick’s embers finally douse, she is left in total darkness. 

_You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?_


End file.
